


Fantasy & Sci-Fi

by smallameangel



Series: Frans Week Short Stories [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Frisk the muse, Sans the bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallameangel/pseuds/smallameangel
Summary: Day 1 forfransweek's2018 tumblr challenge!Sans is trapped in a tower, left only with his lute for company. Who will be his muse?This is part of 2018’s event. My health was at an all time low last year, so I’m finally getting to those prompts now.Better late than never, right? Expect 2018 and 2019’s prompts to be posted around the same time. ;)





	Fantasy & Sci-Fi

Sans didn’t mind being stuck in an excessively tall tower. It was actually easier being locked up alone in that cold, dark, musty excuse for a castle than trying to escape his duties as court jester. No one really found him that funny in the end, did they? Besides, it was just too much work for something that wasn’t that rewarding. The king and queen rarely laughed once their children had died, and who could blame them? Even he, a walking symbol of death, felt uncomfortable trying to lighten the mood when all the castle wanted to do was mourn the loss of their princes. 

So, he had done what any reasonable magical skeleton would do. He said something so outrageous, in jest, of course, that the court unanimously condemned him to be exiled in the tallest tower of the land. The king and queen did not wish to see their dear friend be treated so for the rest of his life, but were unable to quell the court. And so, there he was, at the top of the highest tower in the land, strumming absentmindedly on a lute to pass the time. 

How many days had passed since he had last seen his friends and family? Were the king and queen still mourning? Was his brother sleeping well? Days blurred together as he slept through sunrises and sunsets, a pocket of light flooding his drafty room through the only window in the vast brick tower. 

Being the royal court jester required more than merely well-timed puns and wit. It required a finesse with words and music that most could only hope to aspire to. In his newfound solitude, the boney jester turned his attentions from jokes and merriment to music and rhyme. He crafted a melody, weaving words through song.

He told the story of a young human making their way through the monster kingdom, battling for the sake of their lost sibling. They arrived in the cold, damp morning while most monsters still slept, standing resolutely before the town’s square as fog blanketed the deserted cobblestones, the only things to their name, a threadbare sweater, a hole-ridden pair of brown leather boots, and a large walking stick. His baritone voice wavered as the human continued on their trek through the monster town and into the castle, facing peril after peril as various key members of the court barred their route to the king and queen. Papyrus, the valiant knight, clad in shimmering white and blue, Undyne, the captain of the Royal Guard in her silver regalia, Alphys, the court medic, and her passionate helper Mettaton. Each challenge was overcome, each battle fought with dignity and grace, each challenger allowing the human passage to the next part of the castle. Upon entry to the throne room, the mourning monarchs greeted the human traveler with awe. It was as though they had seen a ghost. The short locks of brown hair dusting their eyes, the steady, determined gaze of someone so young who had seen so much… One of their children had seemingly returned from the grave! So similar in appearance were they to their lost child that they rushed to greet them, a renewed vigor for life flowing through the lonely pair. 

Days passed as Sans continued to sing the tales of this made-up human, his desire to see his friends and family live happy lives so strong that he could not keep his fingers from strumming his lute, filling his empty prison with life. The human stayed with them for a time, renewing the king and queen’s desire to reign over their kingdom and filling the hearts of the court with a renewed sense of hope. The skeletal bard’s songs varied from day to day, creating plucky, cheery melodies for the human’s lighthearted adventures, and slow, emotion-filled melodies for the important moments that the kingdom would share with them. 

Each day, a new tale was spun, a new melody was sung. And each day, the poor, lonely bard would find himself more and more enraptured by the strange and wonderful human who occupied his thoughts. Their apparition in his thoughts had been as sudden as it were magical, and nothing could prevent the trapped monster from singing their praises…

Months passed, and each day, the bard had sung a new song, until one fateful day, he awoke to feel empty. There was nothing left in his soul. The muse who had burst into his life had seemingly left without warning. And so, with a heavy heart, he sang a tearful song of goodbye. The human bid farewell to their monster family and friends with the promise of continuing their journey. They had places to go. 

Time moved ever forward, but no longer did the skeleton man revel in his solitude. Now he yearned for the companionship that was taken from him. His muse had left him. They had places to go. He spent the following days staring blankly out across the horizon of variegated poppies, a blanket of white and purple swaying in his vision. Then, one day, Sans spied a splotch of blue and brown in the field of white and purple. Its gradual movement towards the stone tower intrigued him greatly, his pupils shimmering with excitement. Someone was approaching. 

Gradually, the mass of blue and brown morphed into a familiar shape. A human, clad in a threadbare blue and purple-striped sweater, hole-ridden leather boots on their feet and a large walking stick in hand. His soul leapt in surprise. It could not be. The stories he had spun were mere desperation, a fiction of his imagination. But lo, the human continued their treck towards the lonely tower, until finally, they were so close that Sans could see the radiance of their sun-kissed skin and the beauty of their sparkling ruby eyes.

Unable to believe his eyes, the bard stared, dumbstruck, at the nymph before him. Their apparition in his life was as sudden as it was magical. He could not hold back. He had to see them, touch them, make sure they were real, that this was real. That they were real. No sooner had those thoughts passed through his mind than the human had smiled, lifting their right hand towards the open window, gesturing for him to come down. Sans blinked and rubbed his eye sockets roughly before picking up the lute laying by his bed and stepping out of the tower.

Stepping out into the sun for the first time in ages, Sans walked slowly towards the human, his muse, his beloved and yet unknown companion, and smiled. Never before had he felt so relaxed, so content, since his imprisonment. The human smiled once again, their hands now outstretched; a silent gesture of trust. He placed his boney hands into their soft ones, and finally the human spoke:

* I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, they said, their voice as soft and gentle as the spring breeze. * Your words supported me, so I now wish to support you.

And so they stood there, in the light, reveling in the rustling of the poppies at their heels.


End file.
